Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-11-10
THE HATEFUL GIFT.
A STORY.

"You will need an extra wrap, my dear.
the mountain breezes are chilly" said
Cousin Charity.
Hooked ruefulIy at my black grena-
dine dress, thinking how the dust would
ruin it's freshness. At IL I had super
abundance of health, while my wardrobe,
alas! was scanty one.
Haven't you an old cloak to wrap
around your continued Mrs. Tileston.
shook my head sorrowfully, realizing full
lv nv poverty-stricken state. My shah
by but comfortable winters cloak had
been given to little Peggy Hopkins when
I came east to visit my fathers wealthy
relatives.
Her fathers people are wealthy" said
mother to Mrs. Hopkins, as with kind
smile upon her gentle, care-worn face,
she gave the cloak to the lame girl. ut
can be nicely made over for Peggy by
little turning, and no doubt Agnes will re-
ceive many handsome presents if she is
thoughtful and obliging and wins their
affection"
NV first visit was at the house of my
fathers cousin. Mr.. Tileston was mil
lionaire, an elderly man, who late In life
had married maiden lady as rich as
himself.
InoV naQ one Cullu, d wy VI
10, his mothers idol.
I had been staying at Cousin Rogers
about a month when received an invita-
ton to visit young lady who lived at
Dalesmere, a pretty village seven miles
distant. Helen Bigelow had met me at
nv cousins house in Righbury and want
ed me to join the gay party of young
people at her fathers handsome country
home.
Although yet schoolgirl, her costumes
were so tasteful, SO appropriate In their
simple elegance that, thinking how few
were the changes [ could make in my
scanty wardrobe, at first L was half in
clined to refuse her kind invitation, much
as longed to visit her; but finally I
furnished up my white India muslin,
bought few new ribbons, and accepted
for if / began life in the east in that
shrinking, cOwardly fashion [ might as
well return at once to the obscurity of
onr little western town, since, unless a
fortune dropped down at my feet from
the clouds some fine morning, my pros
pect for new dresses was vague indeed,
''shadowy as the unsubstantial fabric of
dream"
Resides, I knew this invitation would
please mother; and, dear heart, she had
saved and sacrificed SO much to give me
better social advantages than could be
obtained in the little frontier village,
therefore my letters home were lnvarl-
able sunny ones, and if my disllluslons
were frequent and saddening her unset
fish heart was not panied by hearing of
them. and no doubt she went about her
work happily picturing her daughter as
moving in kind of puritan paradise,
with Cousin Charity to play the part of a
prudent fairy gcdmother.
Well, she was prudent enough, that is
quite certain, even to the verge of penu-
robustness.
Once she demonstrated with me for
writing SO many letters home, saying the
postage stamps cost so much she wonder
ed how I could afford them-she couldn't.
It used to seem very incongruous to
me, the fact of her having been named
Charity, for cognomen more lnconslst-
ent with her nature could scarcely have
been found.
"Wait a minute, Agnes" Then she
went with her soft, slippered tread up
the wide stairs to the large front chamber.
When she came back watt of perfume
as from tabled lands of the orient, pre-
ceded her. It was lying across her arm,
the quaint, graceful wrap. Here is
shawl you can wear while you are at
Dalesmere. Be careful of it,
That was every word she said, IN low,
soft voice, putting it round me.
''How lovely, and how kind of you to
lend it to me; will be very careful of it,"
stammered, quite overcome by such un-
expected and thoughtful generosity. The
tears came to my eyes, tears of contri-
ton to think how 1 had wronged her in
my thoughts, deeming her miserly and
grasping to a sinful degree.
She repealed me, this little woman, with
her cold gray eyes, small and set closely
together, her moUselIke tread, and silent,
watchful ways.
Now 1 stopped down impulsivelv, and
kissed her, grateful for this really moth
er-like act.
'sNever mind thanking me, only be care
full of it." That was ali she said. Good
by" The carriage rolled away.
Over the rough stones of Highbury' S
main street, sleepy and elm-embroldered,
out into the open country. that was a
pleasant drive over the hills in the rosy
morning of life and May. Little breezes
blew freshly, breathing the aroma of pine
aud spruce tree, and pink arbutus flowers
growing in sunny hollows peeped shyly
out along the roadside. sweet as rustic
maidens, blooming in homely garb. Cas-
cades came dashing down from the high
hills, foaming over gray and messy rocks,
then grew placid as they watere6 green
meadows where cattle lifted their heads to
gaze with soft mild eyes at us.
Mrs. Bigelow had sent her coachman
over for me. I had the roomy carriage
all to myself, and spread out my Dor
rowed treasure the better to admire its
rich colors.
Certainly it was a beauty; never before
had I seen one like it, nor have l since
They do not manufacture such shawls
now.
The center had once been pure white
but years of lying folded away in the
perfumed darkness of the old chest ha6
mellowed it to a creamy, ivory tint.
The deep border was composed of odd
ly shaped leaves, and these fan-llk'
figures we're of warm, rich shades, beau
tifully harmonious. Awiney red was thu
prevailing tone, yet through this, lik'